


His Fortune is His Soul

by dreadwyrmspawn



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers, Gen, M/M, Post-Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 08:54:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19884955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadwyrmspawn/pseuds/dreadwyrmspawn
Summary: The WoL and Crystal Exarch work through the emotions they're both ignoring after the 5.0 main story.





	His Fortune is His Soul

Rua’a stood at the landing of the grand stairway that twisted up the Ascension. The city was deep in celebration, they failed to notice their champion’s absence. His spirits were stretched too thin, the smallest strain could very well make him snap. There was a bit of him torn out by Emet-Selch as he faded into stardust, shimmering against the victorious morning sun, and nothing set well inside him since. 

There was another missing from the festivities, and one deserving of more praise than anyone was willing to give him. The Warrior of Darkness may have won the battle, but there would have been no battle to fight if the war against the Light’s corruption was not lead by such a stalwart soul. 

It was the first time he really had to stop since arriving on the First. Whisked off by the demands of someone he barely knew at the time. However, now driven by the dormant familiarity he sought out the company in his precious moments alone. His own desires the only thing to answer, too, finally, no world ending tragedy. 

As he climbed the Tower’s grand staircase he allowed the memories he had been ignoring—for the sake of time—since Mt. Gulg to come back. The wonderment that he and G’raha had shared together as they explored what they could access in the Tower. Never enough answers, but plenty of questions to fill a lifetime. Perhaps a different one where he was not held as a paragon of morality. There still was the curiosity, the same that spurred on the young and fearless miqo’te pair years ago. 

The desire for that companionship once more had taken him to the Ocular before he realized it.The door was left open, and that caused him to pause. Was he being welcomed in?

“G’raha,” Rua’a said as he stepped into the room, taking the chance that the other miqo’te wanted the same.

“Ah...!” The smaller miqo’te startled at the intrusion. “Tis strange, you have called me that for a third time, and yet…” He trailed off, his head bowing low. The hood was still removed, its safety no longer there to protect his heart.

“Feels weird,” Rua’a offered and the Exarch nodded so not to speak. “You feel like a different person. The _other you_ becomes less real.”

Ruby eyes grew wide as the Exarch looked up at him. “Y-yeah. But how— oh, right. Your real name is Fox, is it not?”

The rush of warmth that blossomed from deep within his body caused him to visibly shake at the sound of his given name alone. The memories of following Thancred around Ul’dah like a lost kitten. Of sibling rivalries of who was truly the greater craftsman— him or R’hiyo. Of his mom assisting the refugees forever instilling in her son never to turn away someone looking for help.

All times before everyone expected far too much out of him. Rua’a would forever be the Warrior of Light, but Fox — Fox was just a merchant’s son.

“You change your name, hoping to bury any past with it; but nothing fades as long as there is someone to remember it.” Rua’a stepped fully into the room and approached the Exarch, who was now the one shaking. An empathetic smile slid onto his face, even if the other could not see him because those piercing ruby eyes were sealed shut to stop the tears.

What were the memories that played through his head, Rua’a wondered. To reminisce of the same adventures in this Tower? The nostalgic feelings the Exarch had refused to indulge in the last century. 

Rua’a circled his arms around the shorter miqo’te pulling him into a strong embrace. The Exarch’s whole body trembled as the crystal fingers dug cold into his arm. Rua’a could feel the cool crystal through the front and back of his torso; the trust to hold him like this drilled through him, burying deep in that hole in his soul. His chest tightened as if the intimate knowledge itself may snuff him out. Gently, as if the crystal under his touch threatened to shatter, he reached out and ran his thumb across the vein that snaked across the Exarch’s face.

“I will call you however you want,” Rua’a reassured him as his fingers continued to thread through the faded red hair, rubbing small circles behind an ear, “but you need not hide, you are not alone.”

Stillness fell around them in a comfortable blanket. Rua’a’s tail circling around the pair in solace. There was long silences, punctured by staggered breathing of the Exarch. In this reality the Exarch may have lived a century; but Rua’a knew the truth: his confident exterior would crumble to expose the gentle soul that was too long guarded. 

Rua’a only saw G’raha, the same way his sister only saw Fox.

Looking back there should have never been a question of who the hooded man was. A lie of an empty Tower should not have been believed. Secrets and sacrifices such as this were not meant to be faced alone. A sacrifice to save a realm. _Again_.

“Mayhap,” the Exarch spoke slowly as if his next words were to doom them both if taken too quick. “Mayhap in private— here alone with you— I can still be G’raha.” His cheeks brightened, as he stepped back just far enough to look up at his friend.

A peaceful comfort had settled in G’raha’s eyes, a century of torment and selfish desires settling in the sea of his soul. His mouth quivered into a smile he still was not sure he was allowed to have.

“Well then, G’raha,” Confidence rung in the Warrior of Light’s voice. The questions wanted to pour out faster than he could think of them. Off in a future where he was long dead, the realm still fought on. G’raha still fought and sacrificed. Offered all his knowledge of the ancients they both loved to save a future long doomed.

To save a friend.

“Tell me _your_ story.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have been struggling with how my own Warrior of Light canonically felt about G'raha Tia. I knew what I wanted as the player (*pushes their heads together* now kiss!) but being an emotional boi he needed a different approach. I feel a weight lifted off of me, and now I can continue forward.


End file.
